Songs Say It Better
by drjamband
Summary: snippets of song lyrics that help follow Booth and Bones through their year apart. Comments appreciated!
1. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part I

**Chapter One-Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part I**

_And here I dreamt I was a soldier  
And I marched the streets of Birkenau  
And I recall in spring  
The perfume that the air would bring  
To the indolent town_

He knew what he was signing up for when he agreed to return, but in the beginning he was still a little bit pissed. His dreams were a reality once again, and not in the good way. He marched the Afghani streets as Farsi buzzed in his ears, wishing he were holding anything but a rifle.

They were situated in a lazy town just west of Kabul. The houses were falling apart due to neglect and violence, and the streets were practically made of dust, leaving no question that there was no yellow brick road to follow to salvation.

The late spring weather was not unlike the weather back home. _Home_. He had tried to refrain from using the word so often. Yes, home meant America, meant DC, meant his apartment, but it also meant her. At this point a collection of Indonesian islands would be more home to him than any of those other places just because she was there.

After smelling nothing but gun powder, sweat, and burning rubber for the past few weeks, he almost didn't recognize a new scent. It smelled like spruce and rosewood, sweet and just like her. Every time he'd wrapped his arms around her body he could smell it, and he embraced himself on instinct. He heard gunshots slice the silence and saw fire light up the sky, and the lazy town was active once again.


	2. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part II

**Chapter Two-Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part II**

_And I am nothing of a builder  
But here I dreamt I was an architect  
And I built this balustrade  
To keep you home, to keep you safe  
From the outside world _

She was convinced it was for the best. She even told him so, told him that it was meant to keep him safe, safe from her. She'd been convinced her walls were structurally sound, having passed every test since high school. Well, almost every test. He'd been the test she'd never studied for, the "riddle she couldn't figure out," as someone had once put it.

The difficult part wasn't figuring him out, it was figuring out what to do with the new information she'd acquired. It took years, but she finally realized what she had to do. Once her discoveries became personal, the dynamic changed to one she hadn't dealt with in almost twenty years. She had to hold this information and the feelings it evoked deep inside of her. She gained his trust, and he gained hers. They became the best of friends; he was the person she relied on for everything.

But on an even deeper level she pushed him away. She wanted to save him from falling off that cliff, from becoming trapped in her heart that was so closed off. She said she didn't want to hurt him, but perhaps that wasn't the best thing to say. What she should have said was that she had to hurt him a little in order to avoid hurting him a lot. But she'd never been that eloquent without putting it down on paper first, and he'd caught her off guard, bombarding her with decrees and assurances. She thought she'd recovered quickly enough, stopping their kiss—yes, _their_ kiss, not just his—and telling him no. But that wasn't a recovery, oh no, it was quite the opposite. It was an instinctual reaction, and _that_ was the thing to be recovered from, not the kiss, not the confession, and not him._  
_


	3. Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part 3

**Chapter Three-Here I Dreamt I Was An Architect Part III**

_But the angles and the corners  
Even though my work is unparalleled  
They never seemed to meet  
This structure fell about our feet  
And we were free to go_

She'd tried to save him, but in doing so she'd forgotten, albeit momentarily, that he always played the role of hero. However that momentary lapse in memory was enough to bring down something it had taken her years to carefully construct, taking the utmost care that every brick and stone was in place. But perhaps the mortar wasn't strong enough, or perhaps he possessed some deeper knowledge about her, or perhaps it was a combination of both. Whatever the reason, the cracks, dents, and holes he'd made in her wall led it to crumble at their feet that night.

Maybe she should have taken more care, repairing the cracks before they got any bigger. She should have been more attentive, recognized his intentions. But then she recognized that the higher she built, the easier it became for him to climb over to the other side. It was useless, her plan was flawed, and she should have just accepted that fact. But instead she denied such a fact even existed, which she would never do otherwise, and blew everything up. The debris lay at their feet, and no more did anything hold them in or out. They were free to choose which way to go. But since it had been her wall, her handiwork that brought it down, she chose. And she chose friends. Partners. Anything but what he'd asked of her.


	4. It's Only Me Part I

**Chapter Four-It's Only Me Part I**

_You can't always trust  
The darkness and the dust  
But me, I'm just a man  
It's more than I can understand_

He lay in the dark, on a sinking cot that did nothing for his back. He swore he wouldn't let the hot nights get to him, but the memories inundated his tired mind. He was standing, veritably shaking so hard his dog tags bounced against his St. Christopher medal. He and Miller, his good friend, both had their rifles trained on a burning building. If anyone of suspicion came running out, they were to shoot. It was harsh, but harsh had become a relative term by then.

Suddenly the ground shook and Miller lost his weapon. As Booth turned his attention to his unarmed friend, two men ran from near the building, bombs at the ready. They weren't very close, but they were close enough. Booth couldn't shoot for fear of triggering the bomb before others were safely away, so he grabbed Miller and flung him to the ground, crouching over him with their backs to the ensuing explosion.

Pain shot through Booth's back and he rolled over screaming. Miller lay breathing heavily until he was shot. The man with the gun looked at Booth's anguished face and aimed his rifle. "Do it!" Booth had screamed, and the trigger was pulled. Nothing happened. Booth opened his eyes just long enough to see the man swing his rifle at his head. He woke up in the hospital, lying on his stomach, wondering why Miller died and not him. Shouldn't he die protecting a friend? Certainly the one being protected should not be the unfortunate victim.

He still didn't understand it, and the dark of night didn't help him see things any clearer. After years away from it all night had started to become a casual acquaintance, someone you'd get to know on a superficial level, rather than an enemy. He'd wanted to carry that dynamic into this, but he knew he was fooling himself the first time he saw the cots lined up in rows. When he closed his eyes he saw it, happening over and over again, but when he opened his eyes he saw nothing, leaving his mind free to imagine scenarios of increasing violence and desperation. Finally he sat outside, where streetlights illuminated circles of road, and fell asleep with his rifle between his knees.


	5. It's Only Me Part II

**Chapter Five-It's Only Me Part II**

_And the sound of my heart it startled me_

She peeled the covers off the small bed as she prepared to climb in for another night. It was hot, and clothes and sheets and dirt stuck to her indefinitely. Her stomach grumbled audibly and she realized she was hungry.

_Geez, Bones, haven't you eaten yet?_

She gasped. Surely she'd heard it. Her heart beat faster and louder and she thought maybe she'd mistaken it for his voice. Taking a few deep breaths, she climbed into bed, forgetting her hunger. Sleep came swiftly that night, and as her eyelids grew heavy, she started to dream of him.

She was enjoying a cup of coffee when she saw him. For some reason the thought struck her that the coffee in DC was so much better than the coffee in Indonesia, for the coffee in Indonesia had been too strong. Shaking her head, her gaze returned to him.

Suddenly the coffee was gone and she was running towards him, calling his name. Sunlight glinted off the Reflecting Pool, getting in her eyes and making it hard to see him. She was getting frustrated; she hadn't seen him in a year and here they were, finally, and light was obscuring everything.

She squinted and continued running and calling his name, but as the light changed for a split second, she saw he was running away. "Where are you going?" she called out.

"Away from you!" he shouted.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I have to! This is how it's supposed to be, Bones!" He was calling out as he ran farther and farther away from her and she stopped.

"You said to meet at the Reflecting Pool! Those were your plans!"

"Yes," he whispered, now somehow standing right in front of her. "Those were my plans. And now you must break them."

"What?" she asked.

"Think about it, Bones. My plans, my life. You broke them. Goodbye, Bones." She reached out desperately to hold on to him but he was gone, faded from the scenery.

She awoke, scared out of her mind, her heart pounding in her ears.


	6. It's Only Me Part III

**Chapter Six-It's Only Me Part III**

_I close my eyes to disappear  
into the fields of stars between my ears  
the dark  
as they overlap  
we follow one another  
as we fade to black_

Pain. So much pain. He missed his son. He missed his friends. He missed hockey. He missed her. Every second that passed was like another knife's twist into his heart, his soul. He was afraid that if he didn't think of her every few seconds he'd forget what she looked like, even though those things were impossible.

He heard another shell explode and closed his eyes, lifting his face to the sky. Despite the ever-present smoke, he could see the stars. He searched out Centaurus and Virgo and found them among the clutter the other stars seemed to create.

Centaurus, the powerful half-man, half-beast. The protector, just like him. Virgo, the maiden. Sweet, fair, stunningly beautiful. Just like her. He'd stared so long without blinking that his vision became blurry, the stars overlapped each other until they were one big, white blur. Every single thing, every single piece, had become one in his blurred vision. The previously secret parts of him, his likes, his dislikes, his struggles, his triumphs, had all merged with her past, her present, her knowledge, and her naïveté to become something wonderful and powerful. But it was hazy, created by his skewed perspective, for when he blinked and things went back into focus, everything was separate.

He hadn't wanted to be the first to admit it because he wasn't sure if she'd follow, and he couldn't face that kind of emotion alone. Yet when he did admit it, she followed by saying she was the one who was going to take them both down. Although his ending didn't go as planned, it wasn't entirely unhappy. They remained friends at least. But he recalled now that when he was walking down the steps, arm locked with hers, he had wished that everything, them, the scenery around them, his turmoil, would fade away. That, like at the end of a TV episode, the screen would go dark and the credits would roll, and he'd see the network promotion for the next installment, just so he'd know what to do. But instead he found himself, for the first time in five long years, in the dark about what to do with their relationship.


	7. It's Only Me Part IV

**Chapter Seven-It's Only Me Part IV**

_And at times I don't know why  
The tears come to my eyes  
And what if I go blind  
As they flow out of my mind?  
It worries me_

_It worries me  
That there's someone on my mind  
Who I don't see_

God, she was so scared. She'd been there. She'd identified those bodies long, long ago. It never stopped, death. Here she was with remains hundreds of thousands years old, when fresh remains could be, surely were, waiting for her there. She would admit to thinking, _What if they were his?_ But she'd have to stop herself. Stop herself before every face on every skeleton became his.

She couldn't stand not knowing. He'd promised her not to get into any danger, but he was in a war zone after all. Something unexpected could happen, and he could be gone. The worst was that she knew what it felt like, and it scared her to think what they'd all have to go through again if he didn't come back. She itched with the desire to hear from him.

At one point they'd indentified male remains as the group's chief warrior and she'd lost it, tears flooding her cheeks. She squatted next to the body and cried with her face in her hands. Ever since he fought his way into her life she'd been more emotional, and he told her it was a good thing. Well it wasn't. It defied all logic, made everything too complicated, and made her look foolish in front of her colleagues.

"Dr. Brennan, are you alright?" one of them asked.

Suddenly she'd stood up and whipped around, facing him angrily. "This isn't about me, this is about him!" Then she stopped, shaking, and blanched. "I'm sorry," she whispered, then ran to her tent. She cried on the bed until she fell asleep, seeing him then and only then.

She thought that surely she would break without him. It scared her to think that her entire existence and purpose could be validated solely by him. That without him, she was nothing. She didn't know how he dealt with that burden every day. Of course, he wouldn't call it a burden, he'd call it love. He was happy to feel that way, and that was the difference.


	8. Winter Windows Part I

**Chapter Eight-Winter Windows Part I**

_The voice crackles when it says that God will save you  
He will take you from the lonely life you're living  
If you give, if you give, if you give up on what you want_

He couldn't take it much longer. He didn't know what he was thinking when he'd said he'd move on. Every woman he saw here was her, but then again no woman was. He believed in destiny and he believed in fate. They had agreed that any time they lost faith, it would eventually come back. But his prayers were stifled in the middle of the night and his whispered voice cracked as he recited them.

He knew not to push her, not to force her to do anything she didn't want to. No one could _make_ her do anything, and that was made her, well, her. So he gave her up in order to be happy, which in theory was pretty backwards, but he only did it so he wouldn't be alone. If he couldn't have her, he had to have someone.

Yet now he recognized his moves, his motives, as possibly selfish. He held his feelings in so _he_ wouldn't have to face rejection, all the while telling himself and everyone else that it was for _her_ own good. He told her that night because _he_ wanted it, all the while telling himself and everyone else that it'd be better for _her_ too. And he came all the way to Afghanistan because _he_ had no reason to stay in DC, all the while telling himself and everyone else that it was because _she_ wanted him to. Really it was because if she was going, he was going. It would have been the same had she stayed. _He_ didn't want to look despondent and lonely. _He_ didn't want to be the one left out. It was only about her in the way that she related to _him_, to _his_ life.

Why in the hell would he come back to a war zone after all that'd happened to him? He'd killed people and watched them die. He'd seen their families grieve and rip at the seams. He'd seen friends die and had tried not to imagine their mothers' faces when the messenger knocked on the door. He'd been captured, tortured, beaten, so why would he come back? Because he was a selfish bastard. She said she needed time? Fine, take it, he'd answered. You know, I think I'll do the same. Because this is the only thing that's making me feel like more of a man for letting you go. Because that isn't really how things work. What really happens is he gives her up, and instead of salvation he finds a waterless desert, where not even a mirage appears to ease his pain and loneliness. That's why he came back, put himself in danger, made her worry. Because no matter how irrational, he kept holding on to one impossibility.


	9. Song For You Part I

**Chapter Nine-Song For You Part I**

'_Cause you know it's a simple game  
That you play filling up your head with rain  
And you know you are hiding from your pain  
In the way, in the way you say your name_

She knew she was just wasting time. Fooling around. Stalling. She'd always pushed so far ahead in her career that her personal life had not even taken a backseat, it was in the trailer being towed by the huge truck that was her career. Change: it had happened again. It had happened once before, and she didn't like it. She didn't want things to change when she was 15, and when they did she was miserable. So she hid behind books and schoolwork because she was tired of people asking her what was wrong. Then it happened a second time. "I have the sense that everything is changing," she'd said one night; he'd tried to convince her otherwise. Once things were indeed going to change he'd told her he guessed he didn't do well with it. They'd toasted it nonetheless. She thought it would be good, the change. She needed time away from him, and she spent most of her time with him convincing herself he needed time away from her. She thought she was fully prepared, having seen the change coming and even asking for it this time. She felt quite the opposite. It hurt, and it hurt even more than the first time. This time she admitted she was hiding. This time she knew why he went away. This time she knew she'd had a choice. She knew he understood not only why she left but everything. He understood her in a way that no one else did. And he knew she was playing games again, just wasting time. Suddenly she was envious. He'd faced his pain head-on when she rejected him, and she was futilely trying to get away from hers. She was a coward.


	10. Song For You Part II

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**Chapter Ten-Song For You Part II**

_So you hunch your shoulders and you shake your head  
And your throat is aching but you swear  
No one hurts you, nothing could be sad  
Anyway you're not here enough to care_

The days passed almost unbearably. Every day she found that her interest in her findings dimmed a little more, and she feared she wouldn't escape the island before there was nothing left. Every time she stopped working she felt a ripping, empty pain in her chest that made her want to scream.

And suddenly she was thrown back. In high school, in college, in her first years at the Jeffersonian, staying up all night working in order to keep her mind occupied. The bones kept the pain at bay. Until she met him, and he started to keep the pain at bay. Not only did he banish her feelings of social inadequacy, but he stirred in her seemingly out of thin air feelings of being loved and accepted. Oh, and how she relished in it. Took it selfishly without ever giving back. And then, when he gave her the opportunity she'd been hoping for, the opportunity to reciprocate, she threw it away. Vanquished it. Twisted her thoughts until she convinced herself that it wasn't right for her, that some other woman could do so much more with it.

And now, as she thought about what she'd done, she felt the ripping emptiness and the ever-present weight upon her neck, causing her head to bow and her shoulders to hunch. Her colleagues thought she was sick, told her to rest. She took their advice only because she didn't have the strength to argue. She knew that what she feared would happen to her would, in fact, happen. She'd become depressed, no longer care, and end up a shadow of her former self. Everything would be numb. She knew he wouldn't approve, but the change was already starting to take place, and so she couldn't quite find the strength to care.


	11. Song For You Part III

**End of angst. Lol.**

**Chapter Eleven-Song For You Part III**

_And I see you  
Hiding your face in your hands  
Flying so you won't land  
You think no one understands  
No one understands __  
_

He'd been having a sense lately, a sense that something was a little off. That something wasn't totally wrong yet, but he felt that it could become so very soon if he didn't do something. That something wasn't about his men or his mission, which just about everyone would heave a sigh of relief at, but not him. This something that was little off was about her, and in his mind that was much worse.

He should have stopped to consider what she'd said that night, but there were so many emotions coursing through him as his fears had come true that he hadn't even thought to take a breath and consider. "I can't change. I don't know how." Then, he'd accepted it as fact. After all, she was the genius; who was he to challenge her evidence? But how wrong he was in letting that one slip. He knew all about her feelings of inadequacy, of lovelessness. In fact, every time she felt those feelings, he felt his heart ripping into pieces, so why couldn't he feel it that night? Why didn't he see what was happening? Most probably he mistook the ripping of his heart because of her feelings for the ripping of his heart because of his own.

In those moments on the bottom of the steps he had proven to her that no one understood her. He'd sworn she'd never go back to the way she felt before, but by not responding to her declaration, which he now recognized as a plea, he'd confirmed her suspicions that she was incapable of anything emotional and had encouraged her to run and hide because no one could possibly understand her.

But none of that was true. He understood. He understood perfectly, or else he wouldn't even be having these thoughts and running them through his mind day and night. He closed his eyes and he could see her doing the same, feeling empty and lost some 3,000 or more miles away. He managed a smile; just thinking of her would do that to him. She thought no one understood, but she was so wrong. He chuckled as he thought of the time he'd uttered, "Pinky stumps The Brain!" though now he knew the answer to something much less trivial. And suddenly he realized that he had to let her know. Yes, that was the thing to do. Let her know about his revolutionary discovery, just as she would let him know about hers. He ran to his cot, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from underneath, and started writing.


	12. Song For You Part IV

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**Chapter Twelve-Song For You Part IV**

_And you're so tired you don't sleep at night  
As your heart is trying to mend  
You keep it quiet but you think you might  
Disappear before the end_

Sadly, she had just about had it. She'd gone three days now without sleep, either constantly scanning bones and taking notes or restlessly rolling around in bed, trying to see something other than his face when she closed her eyes. She'd had about a fifty percent success rate of hiding her true emotions from her colleagues when speaking with them, although when they noticed they didn't mention it. No one would dare to after her "it's not about me, it's about him" outburst. They were probably scared of her, just like she knew (or thought she knew) he was.

She could feel sensation slipping away, feel emotion becoming forever forgotten, when one of the younger members of the dig approached her with a simple envelope. She was quite puzzled, a feeling she wasn't accustomed to. She hadn't given anyone her address, not having known it herself, and not having e-mail or phone service, she resigned herself to the fact that she'd talk to everyone when she returned. After all, she thought, no one was thinking about her. Cam had probably hired a new forensic anthropologist, Angela and Hodgins were off in Paris, and Sweets was probably counseling himself on how to get a new girlfriend. And she knew (or thought she knew) for a fact that _he_ wasn't thinking about her. He had an amazing capability for concentration, one that she could confidently say matched her own, and she knew that a moment's deviation from that concentration was likely to get him killed.

Her thoughts were brought back to the letter and who it could possibly be from since she'd ruled out everyone besides her dad and her brother who would write to her. She finally looked down and saw the handwriting. But no, it couldn't be. She looked up and found the young man who'd handed her the envelope gone. Taking a deep breath, she hazarded a glance at the postmark: Kabul. She choked out a sob and ripped the envelope open.


	13. Song For You Part V

**I 3 reviews. Lol enjoy!**

**Chapter Thirteen-Song For You Part V**

_So I'm trying to put it right  
'Cause I want to love you with my heart  
All this trying has made me tired  
And I don't know even where to start_

He didn't start by addressing her. He wanted to get right to the point, and besides, it didn't feel right putting his name for her in writing when he hadn't said it in so long. It didn't even start with a "How are you? Hope you're well" sort of thing, because he was certain she was doing worse than he was. Besides, he was writing to tell her something of importance, not to chat.

_I'm writing to admit my mistake_, he began. _When you said you couldn't change, that you didn't know how, I accepted it as fact. No offense, but I was stupid not to see how wrong you were. My own grief at your rejection masked what I should have felt from you: your feelings of incompetence. I'm sorry. I made the biggest mistake of my life not forcing you to realize what I knew for so long. The thing is, I forgot it for the moment. I forgot that you were scared. I forgot that you were unsure. But most importantly, I forgot that I loved you and would do anything for you. I told myself for so long not to push you, but that's over now. On our second case you pushed me to figure it out, to be a cop. You pushed me to be better, and it worked. I'm a better person because of you, and I'm sorry I didn't say so that night in the mild spring air. So here is my effort to put it right. You can change. You __have__ changed. Frankly, I'm tired of hearing you say you can't do things. You can do anything. I know. I've seen you. Look, I don't know what will happen when we get back, or how we should start off, but I'd have a better picture (and I think you would too) if you wrote me back. I love you with everything that I am, and I want to have the chance to really show you that._

He left the letter unsigned and put his address at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, he sealed the envelope just as the postman came by. Giving the postman a soulful look the guy had probably seen 8,000 times before, he put his faith in fate once again.


	14. Song For You Part VI

**Chapter Fourteen-Song For You Part VI**

_And all of this life  
Moves around you  
For all that you claim  
You're standing still_

At once, everything was spinning. She'd felt stagnant the past few days, but the letter set everything into motion. And as she laid eyes on the familiar scrawl, she felt him once again taking on the role as her force of gravity, keeping her grounded while the world moved around her, around _them_.

She read the letter. The first time, she was rooted to the spot she was standing in when she opened it. The second time, she was sitting on her bed. The third time, she was sitting on the floor, as certain words and phrases glared out at her. "I'm sorry" was the one that seemed to catch her most off guard. Why should _he_ be sorry? _She_ was the one who had acted unbelievably selfish, who had completely disregarded his feelings in order to bury him in her logic.

The next phrase she noticed was "wrote me back," but she wasn't sure she could. What should she say? Should she admit that she was lonely and sad without him? Or should she lie and say she was fine so he wouldn't worry? She shook her head as she realized he'd see right through that. He didn't have to be looking at her or listening to her to know, that was how well he knew her.

The final phrase that caught her eye was "I love you." Yes, she knew he loved her. He'd fearlessly admitted it when he'd desperately kissed her. She was reminded once again of her behavior that night, and how she cringed when she thought about how sad he looked. How selfish she had been when she'd asked him to put on a smile for her. She was tired of regretting everything, of causing him pain. She, like him, wanted to put it right, and so she took out a piece of paper and started writing.


	15. Blue Eyes

**Chapter Fifteen-Blue Eyes**

_What a great surprise  
It's been some time  
How have you been  
Can you come on in  
Let me take your coat  
To cover up the note  
I finished yesterday  
Telling you the way  
I am without you  
Cause I'd be lost forever if you slipped away_

_I must__ admit, I was surprised to hear from you, _she began. _Even though we parted on amiable terms, I could not help but feel the pain of my rejection flowing between us. I couldn't help but wonder that maybe if I had accepted your advances, we would not have been leaving, we would have been coming together. Of course, we will never know the answer to this, but I do know that that day at the airport was the last time I ever want to turn my back on you, or you to turn your back on me. I don't know what will happen when we get back. There are too many variables, circumstances unforeseen, but you need to know something that I think is very important: Without you, I've come to realize over the years, I am nothing. It's bad enough with you not being here; I have no idea what to do with myself. When we first met, I would have regarded this as a sign of weakness. Now I know it to be love. Part of the reason I rejected you that night was because I had to be the one to walk away. If you walked away from me, I'd be lost, and no one would ever find me because you're the only one that could do that, and if you had walked away, you wouldn't care where I was. I hope that makes sense._

She, like him, left the note unsigned.


	16. Winter Windows Part II

**Chapter Sixteen-Winter Windows Part II**

_As a boy he was taught he was the bad one  
One that could heed the other, the protector_

He liked to thing he did the right thing. He had first joined the Army to do the right thing by defending his country. He couldn't have known then that it was this decision that led him to have even more of a slight inferiority complex. By doing the right thing according to the government, he did the wrong thing according to his heart: he took lives. Forty-nine of them, to be exact. He never denied that he counted every single one of them, remembered them all.

So, he tried to right this by joining the FBI. The cosmic balance sheet, he'd told her. Key word: balance. He needed to save people. He'd heard it called White Knight Syndrome and he'd heard it called arrogance. It didn't matter what they called it; it only mattered that she had agreed to help him. He could, in retrospect, be called the bad one. She took a chance, and he still couldn't wrap his head around why she couldn't see that. He paid serious attention to their developing relationship as he simultaneously sought to protect her.

The things was, no matter how much she said she didn't need it, and no matter how much other people said that he had some delusion about himself, he couldn't help it. He couldn't help wanting to shield her from every possible hazard. It wasn't only because he loved her immensely, it was also because he was born with that sense of responsibility. Ever since the beginning, his duty was to protect.

It was a role he took on head first, and with great zeal. He liked it. And not because of the praise (because, let's face it, it just made his father angrier), but because it made him feel better about himself. By the time she got around to making him feel better about himself, that feeling of responsibility was so ingrained into his soul that he couldn't stop. And so he continued to carry the weight of the world as though it were a comfort, because for him, he had rarely known the difference.


	17. Such Great Heights

**ha just figured out how to make a line break! lol. thanks to everyone who's reading. reviews=happiness. 3**

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****Chapter Seventeen-Such Great Heights**

_And I have to speculate that God himself  
Did make us into corresponding shapes like  
Puzzle pieces from the clay  
True, it may seem like a stretch, but  
Its thoughts like this that catch my troubled  
Head when you're away when I am missing you to death_

He got her letter. Skimming the perfect handwriting, he felt a warmth spread through his body, starting in his heart and working its way towards his fingers and toes. He knew then, and had known all along, that God had molded his entire life to lead up to the one moment which was soon to come. Now, many would think that this was the moment. After all, she had just informed him of her love for him. Was this not what he had wanted? It was, but what he wanted more than anything was to finally, _finally_ kiss her and hold her and be with her for real. What she'd said about people being separated, forever searching for the soul mate, had hit him hard that night. Because that didn't apply to him. He wasn't searching. He wasn't searching because he'd already found her that day that now seemed so long ago, considering the progress they'd made. Everything in his life led him to her. That may seem like an exaggerated statement to some, but to him, well, he knew it to be true. All this time he'd been hoping that she felt the same, and dealing with the pain of missing her was made a little easier by learning that she missed him too.


	18. Piazza, New York Catcher

_thanks to everyone who read/reviewed! i had a lot of fun writing this, and i am working on a more up-to-date part two. thanks again!

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The sun upon the roof in winter will draw you out like  
a flower  
Meet you at the statue in an hour  
Meet you at the statue in an hour

He managed to keep safe. She managed not to lose it. The hottest of suns burnt the days away until there weren't any left and it was time to go. He made his bed. He donned his cap. Tied the laces on his boots and picked up his bag. The cheap material of the handle gave his skin a mark like rug burn as he carried it to the helicopter that would take him to the airport. The noise of the blades pounded against his eardrums, and he searched the buzz for some underlying reassurance, but, finding none, he sighed and climbed into the chopper. What was he expecting? For the blades to suddenly take on the voice of Jesus and tell him everything would be fine, that she meant what she said? Hah! Yeah, that would definitely happen, along with the need for him not to immediately start reciting hockey stats in his head every time he thought about her. He'd thought through the Flyers roster so many times it almost didn't work anymore.

She packed her suitcase and took one last look around. She felt the gravity of the day, how she'd be seeing him later. Although they'd be tired, they'd agreed to meet an hour after her flight landed, which was about six hours after his. She was glad; she couldn't wait to see him. Although his letter had seemed sincere, she couldn't help but feel some anxiety about their upcoming reunion. They'd been apart for a year. Things were bound to have changed. Entropy. Yet when she'd made that argument before he'd promised her he'd always be there. Taking a deep breath, she wheeled her suitcase out to the van that would take her to the airport.

He landed and his brother picked him up. They hugged for a minute, exchanged quick pleasantries, and didn't say another word until they arrived at his apartment building. He mumbled that he was tired and was going to take a shower. He gave his brother his thanks, they said their goodbyes, and he headed upstairs. Everything was weird. Elevators were weird. Smiling people speaking English were weird. Air conditioning and peaceful skies and floors made of stuff other than dirt. Turning the key, he slowly opened his door. The apartment was clean and smelled like Pledge. He took off his boots and socks and felt the carpet between his toes and beneath his feet. He sat on the couch and lightly bounced a couple times. It would still be bad for his back, but damn it felt good. He flicked the TV on and off. He turned on the sink and watched the water run. He let his eyes traverse the many pictures on a shelf in his living room. He saw his son and his heart ached. He saw her and he almost let out a sob. He walked to the bedroom and stared at the sheets. Pulling them back, he sprawled hesitantly across the bed before he fell asleep.

With six hours left in her flight, the thought occurred to her that he had just landed. He was waiting for her, just like always. She let herself smile as she looked out the window, touching her fingertips to the cool glass. The sky was dusky and the ocean below was dark. She closed her eyes and tried to see him. Would he be in his uniform like he was the day she left? Would he have shaved? Surely he would be tanner and thinner, right? More muscular too. She thought about how different she would look to him. Her skin was light brown, her hair was light auburn. She was certainly thinner. She felt different. She was more certain that she'd ever been, more confident. In fact, she ventured that she'd never felt better, as cliché as that sounded even when it wasn't spoken aloud. Resolving to contain this newfound fidgety feeling, she opened an anthropology magazine. Ah, yes, much better.

He jerked awake. The sky was pink and yellow and made him want a strawberry lemonade. Yeah, he'd definitely been away too long. But that was OK because he was back now, and he was going to see her in an hour. Wait, an hour? He had to get ready! He shucked his fatigues and jumped into the shower, the cold spray not bothering him in the least. He squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into his palm and took a moment to breathe deeply before scrubbing his hair and rinsing it. He rubbed soap over himself three separate times, each time scrubbing until his skin was almost raw. Satisfied that he was grime-less, he toweled off before throwing on a t-shirt and jeans. The denim felt odd on his legs, and the lack of cover on his arms made little sense to him in his state of semi culture shock. Shaking his head, he pushed his feet into his shoes and grabbed his keys. Climbing into his SUV, he hoped he remembered how to drive through the city.

She landed and took a cab to her apartment. Craning her neck, the building seemed far too tall. Inside, the lobby seemed overdone. The elevator was too shiny. Inside her apartment, she had too much stuff. Everything looked the same. So much the same, in fact, that it was eerie the way things were so much different. The cab ride had taken fifteen minutes off of her time, so she jumped in the shower, the cold spray not bothering her in the least. She washed her hair thoroughly and used the loofa until her skin was pink. Hurriedly, she grabbed a towel and threw it around her body. She pulled on a pair of khakis and a shirt that he said matched her eyes. Twisting her hair into a ponytail, she grabbed her keys and made her way to the car.

_You might as well blame it on the will that the wind chose_

He sat on a bench, jiggling his leg in anticipation. He wondered how she'd look, what she'd say. Would it be awkward? No, it couldn't be. Right? Right. He took a deep breath. He glanced across the Reflecting Pool then back again, doing a double-take when he thought he saw something. Yes. Just a shadow in the encroaching darkness, but his sniper's eyes had become that much more defined in the past year. He still remembered her walk, her mannerisms, and they all came back to him in one huge wave, hitting him square in the chest as he sat perched on the wooden slates that made up the bench seat. He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets, blushing, trying not to smile.

She knew it was him. He sat with his elbows on his knees, focused on a point in the distance, and she could see even from her vantage point that he was jiggling his leg. He was nervous. So was she. Suddenly he stood and bowed his head. Either he saw her or he thought she wasn't coming. How could he think that? No, he must've seen her. She bit her lip in an effort to keep from smiling. Before she knew it, the wind was knocked out of her as she found himself standing right in front of him.

He looked and waited as two words were spoken.

A whisper. "Booth."

Another whisper. "Bones."

They embraced tightly and kissed. The wait was finally over.


End file.
